Occasionally
by JustKel
Summary: Quick one shot. Sometimes, it's just about getting through the night. Companion piece to The Consequences of Sin, although it doesn't really fit into that story. Rated for gentle smut.


Occasionally

A/N: Of course I don't own Ranger, he's JEs. Sin's all mine though. This actually was toyed with for The Consequences of Sin, but didn't work in that setting for me. Now that I'm not a rabid honey badger who hates everyone, I went back to it. (Seriously, if I could bottle new baby hormones, we'd all be floating in serotonin and world peace, this stuff is like the best buzz ever.)

Rated M for smexy time, although it's so sweet and gentle compared to my usual fare, I almost feel like it could be softcore. This is just a one shot, a quick view of how you make it through the night sometimes. If you haven't heard "I'll Be the Moon" by Dierks Bentley and Maren Morris, it pairs well with this fic.

1

The phone buzzed softly on the nightstand, and Sin paused in drying her hair to check it.

_Busy? _

Her lips curved ruefully as sh7e glanced out the window. The moon rode low on the horizon, full and golden, gleaming softly through the skeleton fingers of the trees.

_Not particularly. What's up? _

_Drive? _

She hesitated before replying. Music drifted in from the living room, where her brother and his fiancee were cuddling up and watching _Dancing With The Stars, _and the book on her nightstand hadn't been holding her attention before her shower anyway.

_15 minutes to dry my hair. Meet you then. _

_See you. _

She blowdried her hair as best she could and pulled it back into a loose braid. A full, combed wool skirt that fell to her ankles, black long sleeved tee and soft suede knee boots were easy to pull on. She was pulling the door closed softly behind her when the Porsche pulled up to the curb.

She slid into the warm black leather cocoon of the car and was wrapped in a swell of strings and piano. Ranger gave her a thin smile, his eyes haunted. A deep five o'clock shadow covered his cheeks. She settled into the seat silently as he pulled into traffic.

The silence lay comfortably between them as the car purred up the interstate, playing tag with the cold silver gleam of the moon and the golden pools of the streetlights clustered around the exits. A whisper of salt slid in through the vents as they approached the coast.

They pulled into a modest bungalow driveway, oyster shells crackling under the tires. Ranger came around and handed her or if the car, then twined his fingers through hers and led the way into the house.

In the subdued light of the kitchen, he looked worse, and her heart went out to him. He avoided her eyes while he opened a bottle of white wine from the fridge and poured them each a drink. She tilted her head towards the French doors leading out to the beach, and he followed her. The sand crunched under their boots as they made their way down to the rocks littering the high tide line. She settled against him, enjoying the heat of him against the chill of the wind coming off the water, and sipped her wine.

Neither of them had spoken. Time enough to talk later, if that was what they wanted. She simply waited, letting the soft hush of the waves and the wine work on him, smoothing out the ragged edge he was holding himself on. Patience was one of the few virtues she had. She could wait.

2.

Ranger wrapped his arm around Sin's shoulders loosely, wondering if the cold bit into her the way it did him. He never could tell with the diminutive blonde, what she was feeling, what she was thinking. He thought that was why he called her. There were a dozen women who would have gladly stopped everything to spend a night with him, but none of them had her silence, the waiting stillness that soothed him when the nights felt like they lasted years and the moon had a razor edge that left him cut up and bleeding inside.

Slowly, the wind and wine and waves worked their magic on him. The muscles at the base of his skull loosened, his skin warmed with the false flush of the alcohol. A strand of Sin's hair worked its way free of her braid and tickled his cheek. He pressed his face against her head and sighed.

"You must be cold," he said. She shrugged minutely under his arm.

"A little."

He tugged her gently to her feet and they moved back towards the house. He tightened his fingers around hers, feeling the reassuring squeeze in return. He refilled their glasses, hesitating. Soon looked at him steadily over the rim of her glass, the flecks of golden brown in her green eyes catching the light.

"Carlos." Her eyebrow quirked upwards in gentle amusement.

"Sin." He laughed a little and offered her his hand, drawing her down the hall. Guilt warred with relief at her easy acceptance of their arrangement.

They undressed each other slowly in the dark, hands brushing skin in gentle, lingering touches. He feathered kisses over her temple and jaw, combing his fingers through her hair to loosen her braid. She touched his side, the delicate scratch of her fingernails sending shivers up his spine. He pulled her down onto the bed, molding her skin against his, nuzzling his face into the space between her breasts, the softness of her stomach.

She was familiar and strange all at once, the light floral perfume she'd always worn, the slightly salty, silky skin, taut over a delicate frame, so different from the softer curves he tried to forget. She was slick and smooth, like marble, as responsive as the gears of a finely tuned sports car. There was no shyness or hesitation in her, no blushing when he rolled over and pulled her on top of him. She simply took him, and gave herself over completely, until they both collapsed, panting, into the tangled sheets.

He turned on his side, stroking his hand down her back, feeling the rippled scar tissue under the vibrant ink that graced her from neck to hip. He traced a finger over the design, the rapier twined with roses, and squinted to read the Latin script etched into the blade.

"What does it mean?" he asked.

"Bend, and do not break." Sin's shoulders moved slightly in a languid shrug. "It seemed like a good reminder."

"Dios." Ranger rubbed a hand over his face, remembering. "It suits you."

Sin huffed out a soft laugh, and he wrapped his arm back around her, pulling her against his chest. He tried to stifle a yawn and failed, making Sin laugh again.

"Go to sleep," she urged gently, climbing up on the pillows to cradle his head against her shoulder. She combed her fingers through his tousled hair, soothing him like a child.

"Tank says you and I should just get together and be done with it," he confessed, lulled by the gentle caress. "Sometimes I think he's right."

"Tank's head is as thick as his chest," she said with friendly scorn.

"You don't think we're good together?"

"Oh, honey." Sin rolled her eyes toward heaven. "We're the best of good friends. We'd be a disaster as a couple."

Ranger hummed thoughtfully, his eyes heavy. "Maybe… "

"Go to sleep," she said again. She stroked his hair until she felt his body relax into slumber, then pulled the blankets up over them. He murmured something unintelligible and cuddled closer to her, and she sighed, closing her own eyes.

3.

Sin lay quietly in the dark, listening to Ranger's even breathing. Her fingers traced idle patterns across his chest before coming to rest over his heart, the beat steady and strong under her touch. Even in the darkness she could see that his face had relaxed, the fine lines of tension and sorrow easing into peaceful slumber.

She smiled to herself, and snuggled a little closer to his warmth, remembering his speculative murmurings before he'd dozed off. Silly man. She touched his cheek affectionately.

Men always thought love was a decision. If only it was that easy. She would have liked to have that choice. Instead, she had a mind that saw people as interesting puzzle boxes to play with, and an empty place inside herself that she sometimes looked into long enough to feel the monsters in the dark looking back.

She wouldn't admit to anyone that she needed these nights as much as he did. Giving him comfort felt like, for a moment, being redeemed. It made her feel a little more normal, a little less empty. It just wasn't enough, and she was too honest to pretend otherwise and lead on the man she considered one of her few friends.

He was built for a different kind of life, one with kids and a soft, loving woman he could protect. He'd find her one day, and she'd be the first to raise a toast. Until then, well, she'd answer when he called.

"You're a good man, Carlos," she said, too softly to wake him. He sighed in his sleep and turned on his side, nuzzling his face into her shoulder and wrapping his leg over hers. She breathed out an exasperated laugh and stroked the silky dark hair away from his face and rubbing his back in long strokes until he relaxed again.

_If I could fall in love,_ she thought a little sadly, _it would be with you. _


End file.
